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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199513">Month Over the Nest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorkMork/pseuds/BorkMork'>BorkMork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Al being happy, Al-Centric Fic, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, One Shot, Post-Canon, This is all about them, You know those birds Ed found in the bonus ending chapter of the manga?, with birds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:13:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorkMork/pseuds/BorkMork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You found birds?” </p><p>Alphonse surveyed the grass. The yellow areas had been cut down from Granny's new sickle just like Ed told him, and it didn’t take long for him to spot his helmet amid the green, nestled in a bed of unperturbed weeds. Looking at it, Al found it weird to see the armor again, being used even with the lack of soul within it.</p><p>His brother trekked next to him. Ed, lifting his sickle, pointed the tool's brittle end at the bassinet. “Yeah. Den brought it here. Didn’t think much of it, but...a mother found a new home, apparently."</p><p>-</p><p>Alphonse couldn't resist taking care of the birds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphonse Elric &amp; Edward Elric, Mei Chan | May Chang &amp; Alphonse Elric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Month Over the Nest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Have to give kudos once again to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLense/pseuds/NewLense">NewLense</a> for being my beta-reader!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You found birds?” </p><p>Alphonse surveyed the grass. The yellow areas had been cut down from Granny's new sickle just like Ed told him, and it didn’t take long for him to spot his helmet amid the green, nestled in a bed of unperturbed weeds. Looking at it, Al found it weird to see the armor again, being used even with the lack of soul within it.</p><p>His brother trekked next to him. Ed, lifting his sickle, pointed the tool's brittle end at the bassinet. “Yeah. Den brought it here. Didn’t think much of it, but...a mother found a new home, apparently."</p><p>Alphonse hunched over to look. He blinked when he saw three tiny bodies. Each was naked, featherless, and nestled deep into the leaves with shut eyes. Ed was right. And it was odd to see how young the babies were, cheeping out weakly toward their voices.</p><p>"They're...they're really cute," Alphonse said.</p><p>Ed chuckled. "Yeah. I felt bad at the idea of moving them. They looked pretty peaceful and I'd be an asshole if I worried their mom. Although, I don’t know if she’s coming back, I scared her off pretty good.”</p><p>Yeah, that would be a problem, definitely. "Well, until she comes back, someone’ll have to take care of them.”</p><p>Edward nodded. He then straightened his back, turning to the house. "Welp. Guess you're birdsitting."</p><p>Al looked at him. "Huh? Why me?"</p><p>He frowned. “It’s your armor. I've other stuff to do than look at a nest all day.” Knowing Edward, he was planning to stuff his nose into library books. Probably researching the geography texts he once described as ‘pointless’ years ago. “And I need to check up on Winry too.”</p><p>“Right.” A cheeky smile. “Don’t want a wrench to the head.”</p><p>Edward shuddered. “Tell me about it." He started moving again, giving a lazy wave of his hand. "Don't be out long."</p><p>"I won't!"</p><p>When his brother left him  Alphonse adjusted his position. Instead of looming over the nest, peering down at the contents like a creep, he brought himself crisscrossed in front of it. He took a deep breath. And then another.</p><p>“Wait, I forgot!" Ed yelled.</p><p>Al looked behind him and saw a blur hurtling towards him. In a panic he lunged forward, grabbing it before it crashed onto the nest. Alphonse looked at it in a daze — was that a bag? — then turned to glare at his brother, who hunched over on the porch, looking undecided on whether to panic or laugh. “What was that for? I could’ve hurt them!”</p><p>“Sorry! Granny told me to give you the bird feed."</p><p>"You could've just walked over. What if I leaned too far and squished them? Then we’d both be cold-hearted murderers!”</p><p>"Well, you caught it, so you don’t need to worry about it!"</p><p>Alphonse turned back to the birds, brushing off his yells. “At least they’ll be safe under my watch. I’m not cruel."</p><p>"I don't hear a 'thank you'."</p><p>Al stuck his tongue out at him. "Thanks, Ed."</p><p>“Make sure to come by the river too. We need to get your strength back.”</p><p>Right. With the current plans he and Edward wanted to partake in, Al would have to take in the consideration of their deadline. A few months to solidify the details, to reassure each other that one shall take the East and one shall take the West. Seemed a lot, but he knew they will be antsy with the passing days.</p><p>“I will,” he reassured. “Six, right?”</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><p>When Edward left, Alphonse turned again. The birds continued to cheep, turning their heads to him in what appeared to be curiosity. Good thing the helmet was there. The metal protected them like it was intended to. </p><p>No wonder Den took it.</p><p>Alphonse looked into the bag. His hand dipped inside and pulled out the grains. They filtered through his fingers, the oats and millet mixing back in like sand. “Millet and oats are good. But I don’t know much about bird care, do I?”</p><p>He looked at the birds again, almost expectantly. Their eyes were still closed. Were they hungry? Thirsty? He had no clue. Alphonse only took care of cats and dogs — not the ideal reference for birds — but Al knew that feeding them dry birdfeed wasn't a good idea. </p><p>“Would worms be good? Or bread?”</p><p>One of the nestlings chirped. Al frowned. Of course, birds weren’t going to respond to him in a sentient manner — nice to think they would, but he needed something better to take care of them. They must have a different sense of autonomy, development, and maturity. If Alphonse wanted to take care of them, he needed to do research. A lot of it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Alphonse didn’t have much of a schedule for himself. He did the chores, cleaned the dishes, and tidied the lawns. He worked with transmutation, wrote Mei penpal letters, and crafted weight equipment in the main room with steel scrap. Sometimes he accompanied his brother to the library. Sometimes Al took to morning hikes, sparring at the river banks. But most of all he had free time — an intimidating amount of it. It was weird to be so liberated now, removed from the anxiety-ridden situations he was used to, and yet he felt antsy to do something. So when there was nothing to do, Al would grab a few books, put the birdfeed into his pocket, and go outside to see the nest.</p><p>The sight of it never changed. He took care of the garden and overlooked them amid each snip of the aging bush, hoping that the mother returned every now and then to feed them. And when he wasn’t occupied and cooing over them, Al found himself deep in East City’s library, nicking any bird reference he could find for the return home.</p><p>Ed teased him that he was a dad-in-the-making. Al didn’t mind. He might as well be seen as their dad from how much he’d been taking care of them. He stayed with them whenever they waited for their mom, taking turns with Den on protecting the troupe. When the birds rejected the millet he would walk over to the kitchen and mush it together with apple, and be delighted at their pickings like they were his own children. </p><p>Alphonse cared a lot. And sometimes that care made him forget the most basic of things — like what their species was until one week in.</p><p>“Wrynecks, hm?” Alphonse sat cross-legged in the dirt, the orange trees rustling above him. Hand occupied with a book, he observed the sketch in the corner, the respective bird peeking out in crisp ink. “Very docile, okay with human interaction. At least brother doesn’t have to worry about the mother anymore.” He flipped a page, furrowing in concentration. “It takes almost a month for you guys to fully mature, so I’ll have to keep an eye on you for a while.” </p><p>The birds chirped out more. One of them was still naked, the two already growing thin, incomplete coats.</p><p>Alphonse had named them the moment he saw them, with a little help later on, of course. It took a while to ascertain who was whom, but with the new growth of feathers and the colored plumage, he found ways to name them.</p><p>The bird with the almost-full cover of feathers watched him. She skitted her little claws onto the branches — attentive, ready to listen to him — and that was enough to make him smile.</p><p>“Ava, it’s okay,” he reassured her, showing a small page from the book. “I’m not going to hover over you all the time. I'll just check up on you guys, nothing more."</p><p>Ava eased at that, continuing to rest in her corner. The other two, still missing patches of their coat, continued to chirrup more out of protest. Or was it something else? Alphonse wasn’t a bird whisperer, despite his best efforts. But he shouldn’t have to worry about their behaviors too much unless it was serious.</p><p>Nina, whom Alphonse recognized by the non-feathered circle she had on her wing, jumped onto the book. She stared down at it, curiously pecking at the ink.</p><p>"Best to jump off it," he said. "I don't want to hurt you if I turned a page or anything."</p><p>For a moment, she cheeped, then decided to rest on his lap instead. With a smile, Alphonse continued flipping through.</p><p>When the sun began its descent, Alphonse remained where he was. Under the orange-bloom sky, he laid on his stomach, searching for something in the pages with Nina perched on his head.</p><p>He didn't know what he was looking for, to be frank. Alphonse had perused through avian biologies for hours, and he didn’t find the logs that he needed. He looked through bullet points, dialogue, every fact he could find on wrynecks, but surprised himself when his attention pivoted to another article entirely. Without even thinking about it, no less. And at one point, he considered the idea that he had been stalling. He found everything he needed and his brain took the opportunity to wander off, to lose its train of thought instead of thinking of the consequences. But, what <em> are </em> the consequences? There was the wanting to take care of birds effectively — that was one of them. So why did he allow himself leisure? Maybe it was the lack of deadline? The lack of consequence for going at his own pace? And at that point, he was astonished to find his answer within the armor’s reflection, his warm eyes looking back at him.</p><p>In it, he found a boy. A boy reading on wrynecks, of woodpeckers, every other animal he took for granted until now. He had time again, and acknowledging that made him feel better.</p><p>“It’s funny, actually.” Alphonse put Nina back into the nest, closing his eyes as he lay into the turf. The wind picked up and caressed his face, like how a mother would do to a resting child. “To think after everything, I still have more opportunities to be myself.”</p><p>He listened to the trees. The rustle of distant fields. At the nature surrounding him. He took a deep breath, smiling more when he pressed his hand against his chest, his heartbeat slowing down.</p><p> “And it’s nice to just relax and take care of you guys. Even if you’ll have to go someday.”</p><p>The idea was sad to think about. Each bird was going to leave the coop and become their own person; they could go anywhere they wanted to, the limitations of the human body wouldn’t stop them. Alphonse couldn’t fly. He could kick butt, study new cultures, and explore the world with his own, two legs, but he didn’t have that advantage — to fly past the horizon or to watch Resembool from a bird’s-eye view.</p><p>“You guys have a month to grow up, but who knows what you’ll find out there in this world?” he said, laughing softly to himself.</p><p>The birds chirped.</p><p>“I’m heading East with Mei, the Xingese girl I told you guys about. Maybe we’ll meet each other on the road? There’s Xing, Cuivre, and all the other Eastern countries I’ve read about in Dad’s stories. What if you migrated the same way and we met up at some nice tree?” </p><p>He lifted a hand up, trying to capture the azure sky in his palm.</p><p>“We could eat food together. Sleep under the shade. Wouldn’t that be great? We could meet Ed on the way to the islands. Said he wanted to punch a shark. Sounds impossible but...he’s Ed, of course he’ll do that.”</p><p>Alphonse smiled more when they responded with chirps. </p><p>“Yeah. That would be nice.”</p><p>His giggles drifted into the wind, and Alphonse hoped, in whatever fortune there was in this world, that the idea could come true.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Mei started to write more when she announced her return back to Xing. She had returned to Xing a few times before, but he was surprised to hear that with the current politics in the East, she was assigned to diplomacy. A lot of it, in fact, to the point that was hard to talk even in the months post-Promised Day. So when the letters came in, Alphonse always found himself scrambling to reply. He wanted to talk to her about the fledgelings. It wasn't the first time he did, but he couldn't just blab to Ed or Winry about avian dictionaries twenty-four-seven. Mei was attentive. She liked birds just like him, and that was enough to get him started when she was available.</p><p>Mei's response was speedy, full of questions:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They're still outside? Do you have names for the others yet? Is Dizi still ill? Xiao-Mei and I could bring some formula through the network. Maybe I can write our clan's recipes down, shouldn't be that hard. It will be long, difficult to read,  but you're Alphonse. You'll be fine. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He answered all of them — in English and rusty Xingese:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Still outside. One of them left already; Ava didn’t want to be held down for too long, and you know Nina? The smaller of the three? Still here. No, Dizi isn’t ill. Does Xing have a difference in how they make birdfeed with their own birds? Just curious. If you want, I could send a picture of them! And thank you, I would love for some recipes, just send some up and I'll probably get through them in a couple of days. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In the next set of exchanges, Mei took to explaining their birdfeed in clear detail — almost terrifyingly so. There were explanations of legumes, mashed bananas, shredded yams, fruits of different nutrition that she was adamant about describing. Al didn't mind; it was nice to see her get passionate in things she loved, and he took note of what seemed better for the birds and what was left rejected from the little bowl he made for them.</p><p>The postal service was surprisingly quick nowadays, too. It must've been from the new interest toward Ishval and communications with the West, but he couldn't be sure. And, if he was being honest, asking Mister Mustang to affirm it wasn't important right now. Al just wanted to take care of birds and talk to Mei.</p><p>And when the messages weren’t about the birds, they would resume talks over alkahestry, the basics of the Dragon’s Pulse for his sake. It was still odd to imagine alchemy in energy that wasn't purely scientific, but Al grew determined to see through the teachings. Because to Alphonse, he needed it. In three months, he and his brother will take their first steps into a new world, and being prepared for the road ahead was better than having nothing.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There were two members less in the helmet. </p><p>Alphonse had looked around the field once or twice. Under the porch, through the surrounding fields, but he found himself returning to the house empty-handed, frowning more at the last remaining bird inside the nest.</p><p>Dizi peeked at him, tipping her small white crown of a head in curiosity. She had been flying in and out of the nest daily, already grown with a beautiful brown coating to match. It felt off to be disappointed at how big she became. It was like seeing children grow up. One by one. Each one out of the coop.</p><p>Alphonse smiled at the way Dizi trilled and sang. That was her thing after all. Mei named her for her voice. When he described how loud she was, Mei wrote back with the name Dizi, from how similar she sounded to “a dizi waking up the clan members”.</p><p>“Geez, all of you grew up so fast.” He placed a small bowl at the end of the nest. Dizi didn’t glance at it; that was a good sign, she didn’t have to depend on him now. Alphonse sighed, scratching his forehead. “At this rate you’ll probably leave tomorrow.”</p><p>The bird jumped onto his hand. There were only three wrynecks at the beginning. Three seemed enough, but now, Alphonse wasn’t sure. Ava had left at the third week, Nina at the fourth. Alphonse knew it took a month and even more to get them to be ready, to stretch out their wings so they could see the world. And Dizi was going to be next. </p><p>Alphonse took in a shallow breath. It comforted him a little, to know that they would grow. He had watched them age with each rising sun, witnessing the progression in small glimpses. They grew more, sang more, and before he knew it, they were displaying their chestnut feathers with pride, with sheer confidence at the world. Alphonse never thought about how much he missed his own development until he watched them work with the bodies they had.</p><p>Al was once the boy trapped in armor. He saw Ed grow from a pipsqueak to an adult. He watched people die and bring life. He was once taller than the rest, almost immortal yet vulnerable at the same time, and Al pondered if there was some truth to the idea that he grew up too fast. But who was he kidding? Of course, he grew up too fast. At least in this acknowledgment, Alphonse found closure instead of anger. There was a gratitude toward being alive, in the freedom to age. No one could take that away from him now.</p><p>That’s why he liked the birds. They were new, young, ready to take on the day even if it meant failure. They never had to endure the pain of long nights or painful thoughts. Opportunity was around them. They could celebrate themselves for the smallest mistakes, and Alphonse was ready to cheer alongside them — to watch them soar and leave old challenges for new ones.</p><p>Just like him and his brother.</p><p>Alphonse smiled softly to himself, rubbing a finger against the bird’s neck. The wind had calmed down amid the auburn leaves, leaving both of them to listen to the ease, the silence of the countryside. He didn’t have to worry about Dizi. Or her siblings. All of them were going to be okay. </p><p>They could hold out on their own.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the early morning afterward, Alphonse pulled a water bucket to the front of the house. He sprayed the grass, trickled it into the parched trees, and when he reached the nest on his way to the ditch, his eyes grew wide. </p><p>The helmet was void of any birds. The only thing left was a single brown feather in the cushioned grass.</p><p>Edward came out of the house, waving a wrench. “Hey, Al, Winry needs you for a—” He stopped. They both stared at one another, Edward frowning at the lack of birds in the helmet. “Oh, they’re already gone.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Alphonse sat down next to it. The twigs and leaves were intact, as if they were still fresh and ready to nestle in the next batch of baby wrynecks. “They’re all grown up now.”</p><p>“Bummer too. I was about to name them something cool finally.”</p><p>Al snorted. “I already named them, brother. You should’ve done that earlier.”</p><p>“Eh. I’m still going to name them.”</p><p>Both exchanged chuckles. Alphonse cleaned up the weeds around the helmet, hacking at them with a sickle while Ed looked at the nest again, rubbing his chin in thought.</p><p>“What do you plan on doing with it?” he asked. </p><p>Alphonse shrugged and looked again at the empty nest. He had a month with the birds. He didn’t know what to do with the helmet, now that they were gone. “The book said that wryneck mothers sometimes come back for second litters.”</p><p>“So you’re going to keep it outside for a while?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Al sighed. He didn’t want to disturb the nest. At least, not now. Their home could be given to another set of birds, maybe a jay that’s still in the season, but he couldn’t just leave it to be empty for winters. It felt off to do so. But that’s the question, too. This nest had been a home to the wrynecks, and who’s to say they wouldn’t come back?</p><p>Resembool had always been Alphonse’s home. The Rockbell residence was there when they explored the country, it was there for Ed when they prepared for the Promised Day, and, after everything they've been through, they found themselves coming back to a barrage of hugs and tears. As if nothing had changed.</p><p>And that fact would stay the same. Always.</p><p>Alphonse tapped a finger at the visor. "I’ll keep it.” The cold metal pressed against him, rough and familiar, resolve now on his face. “They’ll be disappointed if their home was destroyed before they came back.”</p><p>“Makes sense.” Ed cocked his head, seeming to nod afterward, as if it took a moment for him to understand Al fully. “It would suck if they didn’t have a place to come back to.”</p><p>Al carried the helmet further into the pasture, until it was camouflaged by the grasses. “Yeah. They had a family here, and if they ever decide to come back, I’ll get Granny or Winry to take care of them.”</p><p>Because with the months he and his brother had, it was better to not have regrets before they went off on their ways. And it would be nice to see that nothing had changed. That despite the browning of leaves, the growth of sunflowers, and the ever-changing Resembool colors, there was always something familiar to return to, to expect and be surprised at. </p><p>Alphonse Elric needed that, and so did the birds.</p>
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